Voices Of The Past - Poem by Ron Nicely
Voices of the past are calling
as echoes of herds abound.
The soft sweet swish of the arrow
as the buffalo hits the ground.
The sounds of dancing with war paint
the settler's wagons are near
And the drums build up to a fury
drumming out any doubts or fears.
The feathers that are worn so proudly
speak of their victories past.
Eyes that light up in terror
as the enemy's guns start to blast.
Innocence, pride and glory;
centuries of freedom are gone.
Once a proud and happy people
Who's voice have been quiet too long.
Comments about Voices Of The Past by Ron Nicely
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You